


The Benefits of Partnership

by Colombenoire4hope



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Criminal husbands, Fluff, Iron Heights, Juvie, M/M, married coldwave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:59:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colombenoire4hope/pseuds/Colombenoire4hope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4 times Len got them out of trouble + 1 time Mick did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Benefits of Partnership

**Author's Note:**

> My writtting is rusty, I needed some practice and I needed some coldwave fluff… so I decided 2 birds 1 stone and here it is
> 
> Enjoy!

(1) 

Mick was handcuffed to a small plastic bench and told to stay put before being abandoned for few hours. He put his best unaffected face on, staring straight ahead and glaring at anyone who looked at him but truthfully, Mick was devastated.

Barely two months out of juvie and his probation officer had caught him fiddling with a lighter and dragged him to the station for breach of his probation terms. Of course, Mick was planning on setting something on fire but not before Len arrived and showed him where he could do it without getting caught by said probation officer. 

Now Mick was left on an uncomfortable bench, a bitter taste in his mouth. The handcuff was biting harshly into his wrist, leaving it red and irritated and the arsonist was still itching with the urge to set something on fire. He was furious at his own carelessness and his head was clouded by a buzz of thoughts – he didn’t want to go back to juvie, not after actually making an effort to not get caught again, not where he couldn’t see or smell or touch a spark for days especially since this time there wasn’t going to have any Lenny around to help him out and keep him cool. 

Someone sat down next to him, interrupting his mulling and Mick snapped back to attention ready to send the other walk with a growl. But the scrawny body and calculating eyes next to him were familiar and Mick lost the defensive attitude instantly. 

Without looking at him, Len slipped him a key and shielded Mick’s arm with his body so he could free himself. 

“Stay cool” he ordered in a low voice. 

Mick obeyed silently, quickly unlocking the handcuff and rubbing his sore wrist discreetly. The two boys stayed on the bench for a few minutes until Len spotted an officer too busy to pay them much attention and signaled Mick to get up. They pretended to follow the officer until he was close enough to the entrance where they gave him the slip. 

“Don’t rush” said Len as they crossed the exit. “Walk normally.”

He stepped slightly closer to Mick until their shoulders were brushing together as they crossed the street and turned the corner, safely out of view. The arsonist let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“How the hell did that work?” he asked, voice booming with the slight rush of adrenaline. 

Len shrugged “My dad used to be a cop here. I know the place like the back of my hand. Plus, by a mysterious course of events, they caught a local gangster they had been after for months a few minutes after your arrest. Everyone was pretty busy elsewhere.”

Mick remained sceptic that it had been that simple but Len refused to stop walking for a good 15 minutes more until they found dinner and took over a booth. 

“They have records of my arrest.” Insisted Mick “and evidence. I’m just going to be dragged back in as soon as they find me again.”

To his astonishment, Len pulled out from his pocket the plastic evidence bag containing Mick’s lighter. The arsonist snatched it back as his partner smirked at him. 

“I also erased the records of your arrest. It’s as if you were never there. It’s like I said: I know the place like the back of my hand.”

Discreetly, Mick flicked the lighter on and stared at the small flame before snapping it shut and turning back to Len. He didn’t know how to express the relief he was feeling. 

“My probation officer” He said instead.

Len slurped loudly the end of his milkshake and made a dismissive gesture with the hand.

“No evidence. No paperwork. And no you at the station. He won’t say anything unless he wants to be accused of not doing his job properly or outright inventing stories.”

He really had thought of everything. Mick finally relaxed fully and stared at Len slightly awed, only then noticing the fading bruise on his jaw and the way he was favouring his left side. Ignoring the flare of anger at his powerlessness – to help out like Lenny helped him out all the time – he tapped his own jaw with a finger and asked: 

“How much is a stunt like that going to cost you?” 

Lewis still had friends in the force, after all, and he probably wouldn’t like to learn that his kid had been snooping around, never mind the reason. Len brushed him off, as expected, fully aware of what Mick was actually asking.

“I doubt he’ll ever know.”

Mick hummed unconvinced, but dropped the subject anyways. He shoved his lighter in his pocket, caressing it with his fingers one last time, and leaned forward, pushing his plate of fries to the center of the table as a silent order for Len to take some. He moved his legs so his and Len’s knees were touching as a silent show of affection, and was secretly pleased when Len nudged him back slightly. 

They stayed like that for a while. 

(2) 

Mick was going to roast the idiot as soon as he got his hands on him. 

“Come now, don’t be stupid” drawled Snart, talking to the idiot in question “Follow the plan and we can all go our separate ways… if not, I promise this won’t end well for you” 

The young man in front of them gripped the handgun tighter, eyes shifting quickly back and forth between Mick and Len. He was shaking nervously, heavy beads of sweat trailing down his forehead and neck, but held his ground, pointing the gun more firmly at Snart’s head. 

“You are in no position to make demands. Pass over the money and I’ll be leaving” he hissed. 

Mick saw his husband twitch in annoyance and quickly glance at the watch on his wrist. Mick growled. They were running out of time. He knew they shouldn’t have hire the imbecile, he was way too shifty for Mick’s tastes. But the background check and the guy’s almost non-existent physique hadn’t shown him to be a threat, and they had needed his expertise. A mistake. They should have been more careful. 

Snart nodded sharply at him so Mick kicked the duffle bags containing the money towards the man. The guy was a rookie, Len and he would overpower him quickly as soon as there was a window but for now, they had to play along. Mick slowly stepped forward to come stand close to his partner, getting ready to lunge as soon as there was an opening. Len tilted his wrist slightly towards him, silently letting Mick know what they were waiting for. 

As their ex crew member leaned in to grab the bags, eyes till fixed on them, the alarms started blaring, startling him. The man made the mistake to look away giving Len the opportunity to grab his wrist and twist it to disarm him. The man screamed and Mick tackled him, bringing him to the floor and straddling his waist. He punched him in the face once, twice and thrice before Len tapped him on the shoulder. 

“We have to go” he warned him. 

Mick punched the man who had held a gun to his husband’s face once last time, satisfied to hear the bone of the nose crack, and kicked him hard in the ribs for good measure as he got up. The arsonist grabbed the second duffle bag and ran after his partner. 

As they got outside, the police sirens could already be heard getting close. They would be here in less than a minute; the place they were robbing was rather close to the police station, a fact previously outweighed by how shit their security was. Not that it did any good now. 

Mick felt a violent surge of rage course through him and he was tempted to turn back and properly burn the traitor for fucking up so badly but Len gripped him by the wrist, drawing small circles on the skin with his thumb, bringing him back to the problem at hand. He led them to the alleyway where their getaway car was waiting. 

“Drop the bags.” He ordered, pointing at a dumpster. 

Mick glowered, unhappy with this plan but Len’s eyes left no place for discussion so he dumped the bag and jumped in the driver’s seat. 

He drove away slowly, Len’s hand clenched tightly on his thigh as a reminder not to listen to the instinct screaming at him to floor it, not letting go until they were safely back at the safe house. 

(3) 

When Mick got back to their cell, there were once again signs that it had been searched. Behind him, Len cursed quietly and pushed his way in, quickly checking over every corner of the little room. Acting as lookout, Mick leaned against the frame of the door, glaring at every inmate that crossed his gaze, eyes searching for the man responsible. He found him just as he heard Len flushing away all the contraband that had been placed in their cell. 

The guard – identified as Baxter by his name tag - was seemingly casually strolling through gen pop, twirling his riot baton in his hand and throwing not so subtle glances at their cell. Since day one he had held a grudge against Mick, despite the arsonist not having done anything in particular that warranted the extra attention. At first, he had only been following him around, always appearing where Mick was but it had quickly escalated. Baxter had him thrown in the SHU twice already and contraband had started appearing in their cell. The extra surveillance made Mick more and more restless. Len had not let him near a lighter in weeks so to compensate he was more aggressive and prone to starting fights, which wasn’t helping his case. 

“We have to do something about this.” Hissed Len

He was now standing next to him, also watching the guard. Mick knew Len had started collecting as much information on Baxter as he could as soon as he noticed him lurking about. He had recently found out the reason for the guard’s fixation on Mick and unfortunately, it meant he wasn’t going to let go any time soon: Baxter’s wife and children had been killed in an arson incident two years back. Authorities had never found the person responsible but since then, Baxter had decided to personally take care of every arsonist he found. Bad news for Mick. 

“Soon, he’ll plant the contraband and we won’t be able to find it in time” gritted Len. 

Mick grunted “You’ve been trying to get rid of him for weeks. He’s squeaky clean, you said it yourself, Len.” 

The guards announced the closing of the cells so the two criminals backed up from the door. Len immediately went to lay down on his bunk, crossing his arms behind his head and staring at the bottom of Mick’s bunk, zoning out, jaw clenched in frustration. Knowing better than to try and talk when Len went into scheming mode, Mick climbed on his own bed. 

He didn’t sleep. The night guards kept waking him up, banging on the bars of his cell, demanding for him to show some skin which was bullshit because Mick slept shirtless and over the cover. Come morning, the arsonist was murderous. After breakfast, Len disappeared giving Mick the time to get into two fights and break a man’s nose. 

He was nursing his bruised knuckles when Len popped back next to him as they were lined up for count. He snapped at him. 

“Where the fuck were you?” he growled.

His husband only gave him an icy stare, clearly not intimidated by what he knew was him getting anxious. Baxter gave them both a shot for talking in line which Mick strongly doubted was an actual thing, but what can you do. 

They were shoved back into their cell, Len started reading and Mick did a workout to try and shake off the additional adrenaline. He stopped when he got too hot to continue and tried to catch up with some sleep. But it kept getting hotter. He took off his shirt and kicked off the cover but he was still sweating like he was outside during a heatwave in central city. 

A look around told him he wasn’t the only one feeling the heat. The other prisoners were getting angry in their cell, and a glance at Len confirmed his suspicion that the sudden lack of refrigeration had something to do with his morning disappearance. The thief was standing near their cell door, looking around and sweating as much as everyone else was but he didn’t seem worried and kept glancing at his watch every few minutes. 

“Someone do something about the heat for fucksake! Feels like a sauna in here” yelled an inmate. 

“Do I look like I’m hypothermic?” growled Baxter. “Shut the fuck up!” 

It clicked. Len wanted Baxter in the middle of a riot. Now, Mick was always up for a fight but Len usually preferred to avoid them, something Mick had to admit was usually the smart thing to do, especially in a case like this one. This plan was fucking stupid. Before he could tell Len as much, however, the doors buzzed open for count again and all the inmates stepped out. 

As predicted, the more violent inmates started to taunt and jeer at the guards, using the heat as a reason to start a fight. Quickly, a few stepped out of the line.

“Get back in line!” ordered Baxter.

Out of stupidity or plain carelessness, he still hadn’t sensed the danger. He pulled out his riot baton and pointed it threateningly but the inmates were not cowed. Another CO stepped forward to place a hand on Baxter’s shoulder trying to silently signal him to back away but at this sign of hesitance, the inmates pounced. 

Trying to make their way out, Baxter and the other guard managed to shove some inmates out of their path using their baton, but they were heavily outnumbered and were quickly caught up with and brought to the ground. The fight, however, escalated quickly and soon the inmates were wrangling each other and in the confusion, Baxter managed to punch his way out. 

To Mick’s surprise, instead of backing up in their cell like he usually did, Len jumped forward and straight into the fight. He walked quickly, dodging a few punches and shoving people out of his way until he reached Baxter. He grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, punching him across the jaw and throwing him off balance and to the ground. Baxter fell on his arm, the bone snapping under his weight.

As Len stood back up, satisfied, a fist brutally met with his nose and he was tackled. Mick shook himself of his surprise and jumped in with a roar. He grabbed the man who attacked Len by the neck and lifted him off only to bash his head back down against his knees. Happy with the result, he dropped the man to his feet and decided to seize the opportunity to let off some steam. He jumped into the scuffle, making sure to break a few bones. 

The lockdown alarm started blaring and guards in riot gear amassed behind the gates, getting ready to swarm gen pop. Mick jogged back to his cell, not wanting to land in the SHU, snickering with adrenaline and some amount of satisfaction and making sure Len was following him as the guards started filling the room with gas. Nose still gushing with blood, his husband was chuckling under his breath.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that, Lenny?” growled Mick, still enable to wipe out the smirk off his face. 

Len turned a radiant bloodied smile at him, and fished out a lighter from his pocket.

“I’m taking you someplace unmonitored as soon as lockdown is over.” He announced “So you can set something on fire.”

Mick barked out a laugh and took his own shirt to wipe out the blood on Len’s face before using the hold he had on it to drag his partner into a kiss, biting and licking the smirk from Len’s lips. 

They spend the night curled up on the floor together, Len watching quietly as Mick flicks his lighter on and off, gaze lost in the orange flame hissing gently in the dark. 

(4) 

The Flash dodged the blast from Mick’s heatgun easily but was forced to run past the two criminals. 

“Come on, Flash!” Taunted Captain Cold, smirking gleefully “Don’t play cold chicken with us! Come face the fire!” 

Mick laughed in mirth and fired again, setting the nearby furniture on fire, too pumped up at being free to do his thing to complain about the pun. Next to him, Cold chuckled, equally delighted and patted Mick on the shoulder as he sauntered off with their loot, leaving his partner to cover him. 

Heatwave aimed his fire at the floor in front of him. The flames ate away at the wood quickly, and it collapsed when the flash ran over it, letting the hero fall straight through. The arsonist cackled and retreated through the door and down the stairs after his partner. He was almost outside when something hit him hard in the back and he was sent flying in the street. As he landed harshly on his back, all the air punched out of him, he realised blearily that the kid had already recovered from his little stunt and had hit him from behind. Foul move in Mick’s opinion. 

He tried rolling back to his feet but in a flash of lighting the hero had thrown him to the ground again and knocked the heatgun out of his hand. 

“You’re going back to Iron Heights, Rory” Declared the Flash, voice vibrating in a way Mick found similar to someone speaking through the moving blades of a fan. 

“Really, Scarlet” Drawled a voice from behind him “You should know better by now”

Mick heard the familiar whirr of the Cold gun activating and a blast of absolute zero ice hit the flash in the stomach, sending him crashing a few meters away. Through a still hazy vision, Mick saw his husband standing over him gun and gaze still aimed firmly at the speedster. The arsonist grabbed the offered hand a pulled himself up, picking up his gun along the way. 

Len fired another shot, this time caching the flash’s legs, effectively immobilising him and led Mick away, not letting go of his hand. The two criminals half ran, half stumbled through the streets and somehow ended up taking the metro. At this time, it was practically empty, except for an old lady fervently reading her bible. Their equipment hidden in the bag containing their loot, the two criminals relaxed as the train led them further and further away.

Head still spinning, Mick noticed Len still hadn’t let go of his hand and was squeezing it tight. He sighed happily, let his head fall on his husband’s shoulder and dozed off. 

(+1) 

Everything around them was burning, and Mick was feeling a despair he never thought fire could make him feel. For once, he wasn’t the cause nor was he captivated by the colourful dance of the flames. 

They had been taken by surprise.

Len and Mick had been stumbling home from a night at the bar to their current safe house, intoxicated both by alcohol and a childish glee that hit them every once in a while. Len was playful which made Mick particularly teasing. Wrapped around each other they were barely paying attention to where they were they put their feet, too busy peppering each other’s necks and faces with kisses. 

Upon arriving, Mick had pinned Len to the door by the hips and kissed him deeply, inhaling his smell of sweat and alcohol as his husband fumbled with the lock. They had fallen in, giggling and intent on crashing on the couch to break it in, but their bubble was brutally popped by seeing said couch already occupied by a woman with red hair and sharp nails.

“Snart and Rory” She had sneered “remember me?” 

They didn’t. That obviously ticked her off even more. She snapped her fingers and all hell broke loose. 

The ceiling burst into flames and collapsed. The force of the blast threw them to the floor, and whilst Mick managed to roll away and avoid the chunks of plaster falling on them, Len got hit straight on the head, and knocked out cold. With an enraged roar, Mick lunged forward, making a grab for the meta-human but she spun away and with a flick of the wrist raised a wall of fire between them.

“If I knew the great heatwave and captain cold were so easy to beat, I’d have done it sooner!” she spat.

The woman raised her hands in front of her and set the rest of the furniture on fire before turning and leaving them in her pyre with one last smirk, ignoring Mick’s threats and cries of rage. Left alone with all exits blocked and smoke quickly replacing oxygen, Mick felt a pulse of rage buzz through him and he snapped, punching the floor repeatedly with a snarl. The burst of pain as the skin on his knuckles broke helped calm him down and he shoved his anger away to concentrate on the problem at hand. Focus. They had to get out of here before they turned to a pile of ashes.

Mick crawled back towards Len, making sure to stay close to the floor where most of the oxygen remained and quickly checked him over. He had a nasty cut on the head that was bleeding heavily. He was definitely out and wouldn’t be of any help. Mick growled again. Fuck, he hated coming up with plans, that’s why he lets Snart take care of it! 

Overhead, there was a loud crack and more plaster fell as the ceiling continued to collapse on itself. Mick threw himself over his husband to shield him, bracing his arms over Len’s head and leaning forward. Trying to clear his thoughts, Mick pressed their foreheads together, straining his ears to listen to Len’s breathing over the roar of the flames.

Right. Look around for a way out now. 

Lifting his head, the arsonist had to squint to see through the smoke without tearing up but eventually his eyes landed on the window on the side wall of the room, the only way out that wasn’t completely blocked by flames. Snart had been complaining that very morning that its insolation was crap. Should be easy enough to break. 

Len started to stir beneath him so Mick dropped a quick kiss on his forehead in reassurance.

“You do always say I punch my way out of bad situations” he huffed.

His husband made a slightly confused noise but Mick only smirked at him. He shrugged his jacket off and covered Len as much as possible to protect him from the heat and the inevitable shards of glass and cradled him in his arms. 

Mick took a deep breath and jumped to him feet, stepping through the flames as fast as he could as he ran up to the window. Using his momentum he smashed through the glass with his shoulder and it shattered under his weight. 

The arsonist gritted his teeth as sharp shards of glass lodged themselves in his side, but the sudden burst of fresh air was a relief. The two criminals crashed hard on the dirt but thankfully Len was now conscious enough to finish the movement by curling and rolling, giving Mick enough freedom to do the same. He made sure none of their clothes were on fire and urged Len to continue dragging himself forward until they were both safely out of reach of the flames consuming the safe house. 

Mick dropped on his back and gulped in as much fresh air as possible. Next to him, Len coughed and spit out dust and ash, still clutching Mick’s jacket close to himself, and eventually fell down alongside him, close enough that Mick felt the warmth emanating from his body. 

“Anna Apostolides” gasped Len, after a few seconds of contemplative silence. 

Mick grunted inquisitively, throat too parched to talk. 

“Nasty job.” Explained Len despite also being obviously out of breath “She killed two hostages. We left her tied up for the police to avoid the heat. She got convicted for life.” 

Ahh, yes Mick remembered. The woman was a bloodthirsty ghoul even back then. And now she was a meta-human? His previously forgotten anger sparked up again, stabbing through him like a hot knife at the thought of what she had almost succeeded in doing, and he clenched his fists tight, tensing up to pull himself to his feet and pursue the fucker. 

But Len shuffled closer and kissed the crook of his neck. 

“Later. We’re ok, you got us out. Now she thinks we’re dead. Works out in our favor.” 

Len gave him a crooked smile, eyes already scheming so Mick relaxed and shifted to wrap an arm around his husband’s shoulder, pulling him even closer. 

“Thanks, Mick” sighed Len.

Mick smiled proudly. “Well, it was about time I returned the favour.” 

Len chuckled and hummed in agreement. Mick dragged him even closer so they were properly entangled and the two criminals fell silent as they watched the safe house burn.


End file.
